Quite the Catch

by Quite the Catch [Evernight] (mobi)

  Tina nodded. A few minutes later, the drive ended in a clearing ringed with the woods on three sides. The open side to the west faced a huge field, plowed and ready for spring planting.

  In the center, the small house he had described sat compact and neat. The way he’d talked, she had somehow expected ramshackle, but instead the little place radiated with charm. Painted white, with a deep green trim around the windows and doors, it reminded her of something on a calendar or painting. “Here it is, home sweet home.”

  Although he spoke with a light tone, she realized he had a deep affection for the place. “It’s pretty,” she said. “I can understand why you like it here.”

  “Thanks. Come on, let’s go get what we came for and get out of here. The last thing I want would be some jackasses finding the place and causing trouble.”

  He bolted out of the truck and marched up to the front door, so she followed. The sunshine warmed her shoulders and she drew a deep breath, inhaling the sweet perfume of flowers and growing things. A bed of bright yellow daffodils bloomed beside the steps and nearby, new spikes pushed out of the ground. Tina wondered if Joshua planted them or if they had been in place for years. More flowers would dress the place up but it was pretty now, especially for a single guy’s home.

  “Watch your step,” Joshua said. He stood back to allow her to enter first.

  She entered a small, square room with two windows in front and one on each side. The hardwood floor shone, punctuated by a few braided rag rugs, the kind kids used to use in kindergarten. An old television rested on a stand beside the open doorway leading into the kitchen. Two overstuffed armchairs, a recliner, a bookcase containing both paperbacks and DVDs, and a battered couch filled the room to capacity. A single pole lamp stood behind one of the chairs. A few photographs hung on the walls with a framed Western print. A Cherokee chief’s shirt, complete with ribbons displayed in a plastic case, hung above the couch. Tina glanced at Joshua.

  “My grandfather’s,” he said. “Grab a seat if you want. This won’t take long.”

  Curiosity to see the rest of the place, combined with a need to pee, prompted her to say, “I’d like to use your bathroom, please.”

  “Sure,” he said. “It’s through the bedroom, last room of all. Go ahead.”

  “Thanks.”

  As far as she could recall, she’d never been inside a “shotgun house” before, but now she understood the term. If they were all arranged the same as this one, someone could stand at the front door, fire a shotgun, and the shot would exit through the back door without hitting a thing.

  She strolled through the kitchen and noted the older appliances. Both the stove and fridge were dated with the harvest gold color. A dinette table with two chairs rested against one wall and the sink glistened, empty and very clean.

  Joshua’s bedroom held a neatly made double bed topped with a patchwork quilt, a dresser with a mirror so old that the glass wavered, and a stereo. A chest of drawers sat in one corner with blue jeans stacked on top. Tina noted two doors. One would be the closet, the other the bathroom. She opted for the one on the rear wall and entered the bathroom. Sea green fixtures complimented the forest green walls and like everything else she’d seen so far, it was tidy.

  After she finished, Tina found Joshua in the kitchen. Assorted firearms were spread out across the table and he sat backward in one of the chairs. The smell of gun oil assaulted her nose as he cleaned a pistol. “Did your grandpa teach you how to clean weapons or just to shoot?”

  “Both,” she replied. “Want me to help?”

  “Sure. The sooner we’re out of here, the better.”

  Tina took a seat and smiled as a breeze wafted through the open window. The fresh, clean scented air invigorated her. “What’s the rush? I like it here.”

  He snorted. “So do I, honey, but I’d rather not get ambushed here at home.”

  Her gaze dropped to the firepower on the table. “Why not? I don’t see any difference between here or at Gramps’ place. We’re in trouble either way, aren’t we?”

  “We’re at the end of a dead end lane,” he said. “There’s no other way out except over the open field, which isn’t a good idea, or through the woods, which isn’t much better. Over there, we have a few other options.”

  The serious expression he wore eroded away most of her contentment. “You’re totally expecting them to come after us, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, I am. My gut tells me soon, too.”

  She didn’t get it. “Your gut?”

  “Instinct,” Joshua said. “Intuition, or whatever you want to call it. I have a feeling and it’s strong.”

  “I thought you meant you had indigestion or something,” she said and shook her head.

  His lips curled into a lopsided half-smile. “I’ve got that, too,” he told her. “Always do when something shitty is about to go down.”

  “It’s happening today?”

  Joshua shrugged. “I think so, not sure.”

  “Then let’s get the guns cleaned so we can go.”

  Half an hour later, he wore a shoulder holster with one of his .45 pistols tucked within and his Glock on his belt. Tina placed the .38 he’d borrowed earlier in her purse and accepted the second .45 he offered. “What am I supposed to do with this?” she asked.

  “Keep it in your lap or within reach,” Joshua said. He didn’t smile, either. “And get ready. We’re leaving in five minutes or less.”

  With the pistol in her purse and another to carry, there wasn’t anything else Tina needed to do before they hit the road. “I’m ready when you are,” she told him.

  “Okay.” He opened one of the kitchen cabinets and pulled out a bottle of antacid. He chugged some down, made a face, and rubbed his abdomen. “Let’s go.”

  “I take it your stomach’s still bothering you?” Ever the nurse, she had to ask.

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  “How’s the rest of you?”

  “Sore,” he said after a long pause. “I still hurt and the pain pills are wearing off fast. It’s my gut, though, we need to worry about.”

  In her professional opinion, he looked healthy enough. “Meaning?”

  His eyes darkened, as intense as midnight. “It always kicks up when the shit is about to hit the proverbial fan. We’re almost out of time, honey. I’ll be surprised if we make it back to your place before they find us.”

  Fear crawled into her consciousness. “Joshua, I’m more than a little freaked out.”

  “I know,” he said. “Me too, but what can we do?”

  This time, his smile was full wattage and genuine. Despite the circumstances, she grinned back at him. “Then what are we waiting for?”

  Tina slung her purse over one arm with care and picked up the other pistol. Joshua grabbed his keys and started for the door, then halted. He lifted a hand in warning. “Wait.”

  She froze in place, although she couldn’t see anything different. Her lips parted to ask questions until she heard the unmistakable sound of an approaching vehicle. Tires crunched on the gravel drive and branches snapped as it advanced with speed. Tina started toward the window to peer out but Joshua thrust out an arm. “Stay back,” he said. “I mean it.”

  His body molded against the wall as he glanced through the curtains, his Glock in hand. Tina stepped into the doorway between the kitchen and living room, out of range for now. Then she stood on tiptoe to catch a glimpse of the approaching truck. Any hopes it might be the electric company or some friend of Joshua’s died when the pickup roared into the doorway and parked.

  The same men she’d seen at the riverbank erupted from it. All were armed and each appeared angry, with their faces twisted into dark expressions. How they’d tracked them to Joshua’s secluded home presented a mystery, but for the moment it didn’t matter. Surviving, however, did. Tina focused on the approaching men, who marched toward the house in unison, their steps measured as if they’d practiced. Joshua held a cell phone she’d never seen before t
o his ear and barked into it. “Yeah, send backup to my place. Now, I repeat, now! I’m under attack and I’ve got a civilian with me. Yeah, it’s the three perps. I do not see the fugitive, repeat, I do not see the fugitive but there are three men, armed, and approaching my house.”

  Benson, if she remembered who was who correctly, raised a .30-30 rifle and aimed. Moments later, the kitchen window shattered inward and shards of glass scattered in every direction. Tina choked back a scream and dropped to the floor. Joshua cussed, low and vehement, as he called out, “Are you hurt?”

  Shaking, she shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”

  “Stay fucking down and away from the windows,” he said. “Grab a cushion off the couch, too.”

  Additional shots blasted through the quiet spring morning. Tina heard more windows break and a terrible sound as bullets dug deep into the wooden walls of the house. Joshua returned fire and nailed one of the men—Jim, she thought. He hit the ground clutching his leg and blood puddled around him. “Throw down your weapons,” Joshua shouted. “Put your hands in the air!”

  Neither Curley nor Benson obeyed. Instead, they shot back as they moved closer to the house. Curley fired a pistol from no less than ten feet away and even before she heard Joshua’s anguished groan, she knew he’d been hit by the sound of a bullet tearing into flesh. Acting on impulse and with instinct, Tina popped up and fired the .45 at Curley. Her aim proved true and the slug erased most of his face. Her stomach sickened and threatened to revolt, although she had no regrets. He’d been intent on killing her or Joshua, or both of them. She had killed in self-defense, as her grandfather always taught her. Her concern now was Joshua.

  Tina called his name twice. After the second time, he grunted. “What?”

  “How badly are you hurt?”

  “Who says I’m hurt?” he said. His effort to sound strong failed. His voice came out weaker than usual, and harsh with pain.

  “I did,” she said. “Where were you hit?”

  “Chest,” he said and gasped.

  Her clinical training and trauma experience meant she could visualize what he had suffered. Think, she told herself, think. He’ll be losing a lot of blood, his lung or lungs may be filling with fluid or on the verge of collapse. Shock will hit him hard but that’s good, in a way, because for a few minutes he won’t feel the pain. When it hits, it will be excruciating. He sounds like he’s having trouble breathing and he probably is.

  Focused on Joshua, she made a critical error. With two men down, she forgot about the one still standing. Tina began to crawl toward the kitchen so she could begin preliminary first aid and use Joshua’s phone to call an ambulance. Glass crunched beneath her knees and she tried to avoid cutting her hands as she moved. “Hang on,” she hollered. “I’m coming.”

  Joshua wheezed out the words with effort. “Tina, don’t.”

  She ignored him and crept forward on all fours. A heavy tread on the floorboards made them creak and she glanced up, then shrieked.

  “Yeah, bitch, don’t,” Benson said, mimicking Joshua. His fingers grasped her ponytail and wound tight against her scalp. He jerked her up to her feet with such force she thought he would rip out her hair by the roots. “It’s time to say good-bye.”

  Tina struggled and kicked him with her left foot. “I’m not leaving with you, you son of a bitch. Let me go!”

  In response, he tightened his grasp in her hair and tugged hard. “Yeah, you are. You’re my fuckin’ insurance. I’m not worried about your lover boy on the floor in there. He’ll bleed out soon enough, but just in case he called for help, you’re my human shield.”

  Her fingers clenched into claws and she raked his face, hoping to break the skin. He yelped and slapped her so hard that her head rang. “Bitch!”

  Although stars sparkled at the edge of her consciousness, she talked back. “You’re not a big enough man to take me without a fight.”

  Benson laughed and she shuddered. The sound echoed with evil.

  “No, but I am,” someone said. Tina twisted around to see who spoke. The big man, broad-shouldered and heavy, stood framed by the open front door. His blue chambray shirt, complete with a number emblazoned across his left breast, indicated he must be the fugitive Joshua had been chasing. What a dumbass, Tina thought, too stupid to even change out of the prison uniform.

  Grime coated the shirt with darker streaks and she caught a whiff of a nasty, unwashed stench. “You can fight me all you want to, cuntface, but I’ll take you with us. And if I want, I’ll enjoy your pussy too. I don’t usually like no lawman’s leavings, but in this case I got a feeling I’ll enjoy it a hell of a lot.”

  He marched across the room, a great gorilla of a man, and when he came within range, Tina spit full into his face. The momentary satisfaction faded when he drew back one arm and hit her with a meaty fist. She stumbled and almost fell but Benson caught her, laughing.

  “Easy, Tillman, don’t hurt her too bad or she’ll be dying like the dumb fuck Fed in the kitchen. We need her breathing to get out of here.”

  Her face hurt where he had struck her but Tina rallied. If they took her, she probably wouldn’t survive, and neither would Joshua. Although she had been listening, she hadn’t heard any movement from him for a few minutes and she was worried. I have to get to him and soon.

  She thrust one elbow hard into Benson’s gut and caught him by surprise. He doubled over with a moan, then cursed. Tillman took two steps forward with his fists balled and she braced, ready for more blows.

  Instead, a roar echoed through the small house, loud enough that it drowned out everything else. Tillman stopped short, swayed with an odd expression on his face, then toppled forward like a felled tree. Tina jumped out of the way so he wouldn’t hit her when he fell. She failed to understand what had happened until she noticed the stream of blood running from beneath his body. Joshua had killed him with a single shot.

  Benson let go of her arm and started for the door. “Take one more step and it’ll be your last,” Joshua said. “Throw down any weapons you’ve got.” His voice lacked volume but she had never heard anything as beautiful. He was alive, on his belly near the kitchen door. He must have crawled there, with incredible effort.

  The man halted and thrust his arms up into the air. “Okay, okay.”

  He pitched a pistol and two knives to the floor and stood still.

  Tina rushed to Joshua’s side and knelt down. “Where’s your phone? I’ll call an ambulance.”

  Pale-lipped, face drained of any color, he shook his head. “They’re coming. Don’t you hear them?”

  For a moment, she thought he must be delirious, then the wail of many sirens reached her. “I thought you might be dead,” she told him. Her hands trembled as she ripped away his shirt to check the wound. “How bad are you hit?”

  “Could be worse,” he told her. Then his eyes rolled backward and he slumped, unconscious.

  Chapter Twelve

  The moment the slug hit his chest, he knew he might be a dead man. Joshua had flirted with death before but so far he’d won. This time he feared he might not be as fortunate. The impact sent him reeling and he staggered, almost falling to the floor. Intense pain consumed his chest, a burning, harsh agony almost unbearable. Blood gushed from his wound. In minutes, he would go into shock and if he did, his chances of survival went down. If he could hang on, then he might make it until backup arrived with more firepower and medical support.

  Joshua struggled to focus on basic first aid. He had to slow the bleeding as much as possible. There were kitchen towels in one of the drawers, he recalled, and if he could reach them, he could use them. Before he tried to move, he heard another shot and with effort, he turned to peer through the window. He watched the man called Curley drop dead to the ground, and knew no one but Tina could have fired the fatal shot. What a woman!

  Pain buckled his knees and he half-crawled to retrieve the towels. The faster his blood flowed from the wound, the more his head whirled and he weakened. H
is vision dimmed as he pulled the dishrags out of the drawer and folded several together to form a thick pad. Joshua pressed it against his chest and scooted until his back rested against the cabinets. He pressed down hard on the wound and the cloth turned bright with blood.

  Shock began and the pain lessened but he shivered. His body turned cold and his mind numb. He concentrated on stopping the blood flow and although he failed, he slowed it. And he fought against the rising brightness and the swirling dizziness to hear what happened next. He prayed, not to God but to his spirit kin for help, and sought the strength of his Cherokee ancestors to keep him functioning. Although it wasn’t dawn and he wasn’t greeting the morning, he concentrated on the words of the morning song as a focus.

  When he realized Benson had entered the house, he steeled himself to act. He listened as Tina lashed out at the man and cringed when he heard the unmistakable sound of a slap. Tina’s spunk and sass might carry her through, he thought, but might also enrage Benson into further violence. Joshua wanted to call out a warning but he saved his failing strength. He would have one chance, no more, to save her if he could.

  Her defiance pleased him and scared the holy bejesus out of him too. He thought she might hold her own, until he heard Tillman’s voice. His heart faltered and he feared more for Tina than his own ebbing life. He knew the fugitive’s history, had read every detail of the multiple murders the man had committed, and he’d tracked him. Tillman’s size alone would defeat Tina and if they took her, he would kill her the moment she wasn’t useful any longer.

  Darkness threatened to consume him, to jerk him into its silent depths, but he resisted. Joshua shut his eyes and summoned every ounce of strength, each scrap of fortitude he could. He drew on his ancestors and swore he heard one of the old ones whisper the truth into his ear.

  He loved Tina, cared for her far beyond the passion they had shared. He connected with her and would do anything for her sake. Love is a power, too, the voice in his head told him. So Joshua tapped into it, his last desperate attempt to garner enough strength to act.